"Here, you're paying me for this," Solomon said, approaching Hael, who was sitting quietly on a bench on the lawn of the royal dorms.
Hael stared at the glowing potion bottle with suspicion, hesitantly extending his hands.
"Bro, do you really think I'd poison you after putting in all that effort to save you?" Solomon complained. He grinned, quickly pulling the bottle out of reach. "Let's try that again."
"Here, you're paying me for this," Solomon repeated.
This time, Hael let out a deep sigh before snatching the bottle. "It's water from the dorms. You got this for free, and you're making me pay?"
Seeing the prince play along, Solomon couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, now we can talk," he said, taking a seat next to him on the bench.
...
With a face full of lingering concern, Hael slowly twisted the cap off his bottle. Before he took a drink, his worries spilled out. "Was it really okay to leave him like that?"
Solomon glanced at Hael and chuckled in disbelief. "What, you thought the better option was to let him beat you to death? You're more of a persistent idiot than I thought," he snarked. Inwardly, however, he found himself wondering why Hael had acted so heroically despite being entirely powerless in that situation.
"You're worried about the wrong thing. If we showed that guy an act of good faith, do you honestly think he'd return the favor?" Solomon said brazenly, a smirk playing on his lips. "That man shouldn't be allowed to grow stronger; he doesn't deserve power. It's better for everyone if he gets kicked out of this place."
"Right..." Hael mumbled before finally taking a sip. He lowered the bottle and turned to Solomon, his eyes suddenly resolute. "Then how do we do that?"
"I recorded him, from the moment he swung his sword at you all the way up to him approaching me. Let's just say I have everything we need to get him expelled." Solomon pulled out his phone and pointed the screen at Hael with a smug grin.
"Ah, I see..." Hael exhaled, staring at the paused frame of the menacing swordsman that Solomon had handled with such ease.
...
"It must be nice, huh?"
After a few seconds of silence, Hael slumped forward and whispered softly. Since it was late and they were tucked deep into the royal dorms, surrounded by nothing but the quiet hum of the night, Solomon heard him perfectly.
"What's nice?" he asked.
"Having so much talent," Hael replied, letting out a small laugh that carried a bitter hint of longing.
Solomon turned his head, his expression emptying out as he silently analyzed the deep, quiet pain etched across Hael's features.
"Unlike you, all I have is what I stand on and believe in."
Hael leaned back against the bench, taking a slow sip from his water bottle as his eyes traced the vast expanse of the starry night sky. When Solomon didn't respond, Hael offered a small, self-deprecating smile.
"Right..." he muttered softly. "It's not like that's going to be relatable to someone like you, anyway. Born with talent and strength unique only to yourself."
The quiet returned, thick and heavy in the night air, until Solomon finally broke it.
"Is having a clear sight of what's important to you not something to be proud of?"
Hael blinked, catching the sheer sincerity in Solomon's gaze. "Huh?" he asked, completely caught off guard.
Hael stayed quiet, staring into Solomon's firm, slightly distant eyes.
"I've lost sight of what my life even is," Solomon said, his voice lowering, carrying a rare, unshielded weight. "One second, I was living the life I knew... the next, I'm stuck inside shoes I don't fit. What do I even stand on? How do I approach a life I don't understand? Those questions keep entering my mind, yet no answers exist."
Slouching back in his seat, Solomon absently twisted the cap back onto his water bottle, the sharp click echoing in the still air.
"You have a trait more important than you think," Solomon added quietly, his eyes fixed on the plastic in his hands.
...
Silence once more surrounded them. The chirping of crickets echoed across the lawn, blending with the distant hum of the city outside the academy walls.
"Is this about that hint of loneliness you always carry around? You look out of place. I've seen that expression you're making," Hael finally said, nudging Solomon, who still had his head bowed.
Although a little surprised, Solomon remained quiet. He stared at the ground, offering no reply.
"I think a majority of those who have immense power tend to struggle in that aspect. Most of the people who approach you act like friends, yet the second you fall, they stab you in the back. Meanwhile, the genuinely good people are just scared of the power you wield," Hael mused, his expression turning sour.
Solomon turned toward him, catching that bitter look, and let out a soft chuckle.
"Hah... why are you making that face?" Solomon joked, a playful glint returning to his eye. "Was that a little too relatable?"
Hael scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. Happens a lot, actually."
"You and I are quite similar then, I suppose."
"Isn't that why you saved me?" Hael chuckled softly. "Because I'm an idiot, just like you?"
"No," Solomon replied, his tone shifting to a dry deadpan. "I saved you because you're royalty. I plan to use you as a human shield against that Apollo guy."
Hael stared at him. The humor instantly vanished from his face, replaced by a heavy cloud of disappointment. "Right..."
Solomon's face remained entirely blank. "I was kidding."
"Yeah, I know," Hael muttered, looking away.
Another stretch of silence washed over them, thick and heavy against the quiet hum of the garden. Solomon leaned back, his eyes wandering over the rustling leaves before letting out a low, defeated sigh.
"You're right, though," Solomon uttered quietly. "This place... it's full of snakes."
"That's why you just have to find the right people," Hael said, a sudden, bright smile returning to his face.
Solomon let out a groan. "Man, don't say things like that. You don't even have any friends," he teased, nudging him back.
"Yeah, but it's what I believe in," Hael replied firmly. The warmth in his expression settled back into that steady, unshakeable seriousness.
Solomon shook his head, a genuine laugh breaking through his feigned annoyance. "Sigh... you really are a corny bastard."
"Besides," Hael added, his voice quiet but grounded, "it's up to others to decide if you're worth trusting. Not you. Whether it's hard for them or whatever, they're the ones who will think about it."
"Right..." Solomon whispered.
He turned his head forward, his gaze drifting back out to the quiet expanse of the garden as the silence returned—this time, feeling a little softer.
"I've been meaning to ask," Solomon started. "What exactly is your specialization? I see you in so many different classes that I honestly can't tell what type of magician you are." He rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile, not entirely sure if he was crossing a line.
Hael glanced at him, then lowered his gaze to the floor. He didn't reply right away, seeming lost in deep thought.
"I don't know... it's not an emblem that's ever been recorded in history," Hael finally explained, his tone exhausted. "All I know is... it's useless." Hael fidgeted with the back of his hair, letting out an awkward chuckle that failed to hide his pained smile.
Solomon glanced down at Hael's heavily scarred hands before letting out a small, quiet laugh himself.
"I think it's getting late. We should rest up." Solomon stood, crumpling his empty plastic bottle before tossing it into the nearby bin.
"I'll head in first. You should go rest too. I have a feeling we're going to get called in for an incident report tomorrow. I plan on reporting it to the head butler before I head up." Solomon waved a hand without turning back to look at Hael. "Besides, I'm not someone worthy of your jealousy," he mumbled, his voice so quiet that Hael couldn't possibly hear him.
...
Lying atop his bed, Solomon stared at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his mind. Hael, the widely mocked public failure, actually had more control over his own life and identity than Solomon did as a fake genius.
Hael was a remarkably strong person. Witnessing his tenacity, Solomon couldn't help but feel like his own struggle was stupid and pointless in comparison. Hael couldn't manifest an ounce of mana or Ki, yet he continued pushing forward purely on sheer willpower.
It was foolish... yet, deep down, Solomon knew he was jealous. Jealous of Hael's unshakeable will.
All Solomon supposedly had was this unique, terrifying ability to cast magic that only he could use. But in reality, he didn't even have that. Nonetheless, there was no use crying over spilled milk. Hael had been in that exact position his entire life. Solomon realized he just needed to follow in the prince's footsteps—he had to keep trying until he could somehow meet the massive expectations everyone had placed on him.
Fueled by a newly found motivation, he sat up and grabbed a thick book from the small bookcase in his room.
The Laws of Mana by Jean Erenheart.
And so, ignoring his exhaustion, Solomon spent the rest of the night striving to forge his own future.